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kossaisomething which start in midst of near-death misery , then chip away and get help to really polish up .
13th era sheogorath struggle with post-mortal numbness and grief - help come from within .
warnings : self harm , suicidal thoughts
Lord Sheogorath stood beneath the rushing falls, His eyes squeezed tightly shut. If He kept His focus just so, it almost felt He was part of the water itself. And if He got distracted from His focus, the frigid water pelting Him as His body still couldn't help but reflexively gasp out, well...
Was He crying? It was hard to know at this point, being so utterly drenched.
"You can't be doing this to Yourself," pleaded Sheo from within Him. "Nothing right about it, not even by Our standards."
"I'll do what I want," He answered, feeling the intangible hand pulling at Him, begging Him to step away.
"Please, Thal."
"My Lord?" asked a voice, concerned. Opening His eyes, blinking away tears and water alike, He looked at the woman it came from - Neratia, one of His favourites among the Mazken. "Um... I was sent to see how You're doing..."
Sheogorath huffed, suddenly sputtering and coughing up water. He must have looked pathetic to her, hacking and spitting - He was a God, yet His body still remembered some of its mortal instincts. How much longer would it last?
If she minded it, she didn't say as much.
"Do you... want to come back to the Palace?"
He didn't answer, turning His head away from her and gazing into the distant trees.
"Say yes," Sheo asked. "Please."
"No."
Neratia sucked in a breath, then nodded, "...Okay. But, can I stay here for a little bit? I always end up getting put on duty when I want to watch the clouds... heh," she mumbled, "Sometimes I wonder if they've got it out for me..."
As Sheo silently prayed to Himselves, Lord Sheogorath sighed, waving a hand in apathy.
"Fine."
So Neratia lay back in the grass, a small minklebeet quite gladly nestling into her hair the moment her helmet came off.
"Oh, come on," she giggled, "You can't stay there forever, you know... ah, but," the creature cooed as she gently stroked its elongated snout with her finger. "You are pretty cute. Think Autkendo Jansa will let me keep you in my quarters?"
Lord Sheogorath let Neratia's chattering fade, a strange bitterness swirling inside.
"What's going on with You, huh?" Sheo asked, clearly concerned.
"...It doesn't matter."
Lord Sheogorath felt the intangible hand stroke His cheek, as Sheo clicked his tongue. "Of course it does. Wouldn't be eating Us up if it didn't, now would it?"
He huffed, again.
"Thal, I know this hasn't been easy. You think- You think it was easy for me-?"
"You weren't mortal before. You didn't have another life to have to think about. To leave behind. I don't regret it, but-"
"That's all the Greymarch has ever been," Sheo cut Him off, "Life after life, try after try. Disappearing into Ourself, coming back to find it all destroyed. Burnt to ash, reduced to rubble, bodies mangled and remains left to drift. Mad though We may all be, why do You think We're all a little different? You can't come back from that the same, Daedra or mortal. You get... desperate."
Lord Sheogorath sighed.
"...I know. Keep thinking... if I tell Myself it's different, maybe it'll be. Some spell I haven't found. Some place I can go to wash it all away. Or at least make Myself feel something else."
"How's it feel right now?"
"...Cold. It bites. I'd prefer throw Myself into the lake, if it might do anything."
"But it won't," Sheo answered, "You'd just be floating there in Your thoughts."
"Exactly."
"So let her take You back to the Palace," he said. "You know the hounds'll come after You like this."
"Well it'd be a feeling-"
"Thal! I'm serious!"
Sighing, shaking His head, Lord Sheogorath answered, "No..." He paused with a hint of a smile, "You're not Sirius. You're Sheo."
Hardly a beat passed before Sheo laughed raucously within His head, giving Him a good whack on the shoulder. "Oh, you little jokester! You think making me laugh will get You out of this, do You?!"
"...was worth a shot. Fine, okay. I'm getting out."
Stepping out of the water, bare skin against the rocks, He shuddered and unceremoniously threw Himself into the grass.
"My Lord!" Neratia rushed to her feet, "Are You alright?! Do You need anything, a- a healer? I can patch You up-!"
He simply groaned, rolling onto His back and beginning to sign.
"Haskill's going to kill Me for this."
notes :
back to thaliendir / sheogorath masterpost
13th era sheogorath struggle with post-mortal numbness and grief - help come from within .
warnings : self harm , suicidal thoughts
Lord Sheogorath stood beneath the rushing falls, His eyes squeezed tightly shut. If He kept His focus just so, it almost felt He was part of the water itself. And if He got distracted from His focus, the frigid water pelting Him as His body still couldn't help but reflexively gasp out, well...
Was He crying? It was hard to know at this point, being so utterly drenched.
"You can't be doing this to Yourself," pleaded Sheo from within Him. "Nothing right about it, not even by Our standards."
"I'll do what I want," He answered, feeling the intangible hand pulling at Him, begging Him to step away.
"Please, Thal."
"My Lord?" asked a voice, concerned. Opening His eyes, blinking away tears and water alike, He looked at the woman it came from - Neratia, one of His favourites among the Mazken. "Um... I was sent to see how You're doing..."
Sheogorath huffed, suddenly sputtering and coughing up water. He must have looked pathetic to her, hacking and spitting - He was a God, yet His body still remembered some of its mortal instincts. How much longer would it last?
If she minded it, she didn't say as much.
"Do you... want to come back to the Palace?"
He didn't answer, turning His head away from her and gazing into the distant trees.
"Say yes," Sheo asked. "Please."
"No."
Neratia sucked in a breath, then nodded, "...Okay. But, can I stay here for a little bit? I always end up getting put on duty when I want to watch the clouds... heh," she mumbled, "Sometimes I wonder if they've got it out for me..."
As Sheo silently prayed to Himselves, Lord Sheogorath sighed, waving a hand in apathy.
"Fine."
So Neratia lay back in the grass, a small minklebeet quite gladly nestling into her hair the moment her helmet came off.
"Oh, come on," she giggled, "You can't stay there forever, you know... ah, but," the creature cooed as she gently stroked its elongated snout with her finger. "You are pretty cute. Think Autkendo Jansa will let me keep you in my quarters?"
Lord Sheogorath let Neratia's chattering fade, a strange bitterness swirling inside.
"What's going on with You, huh?" Sheo asked, clearly concerned.
"...It doesn't matter."
Lord Sheogorath felt the intangible hand stroke His cheek, as Sheo clicked his tongue. "Of course it does. Wouldn't be eating Us up if it didn't, now would it?"
He huffed, again.
"Thal, I know this hasn't been easy. You think- You think it was easy for me-?"
"You weren't mortal before. You didn't have another life to have to think about. To leave behind. I don't regret it, but-"
"That's all the Greymarch has ever been," Sheo cut Him off, "Life after life, try after try. Disappearing into Ourself, coming back to find it all destroyed. Burnt to ash, reduced to rubble, bodies mangled and remains left to drift. Mad though We may all be, why do You think We're all a little different? You can't come back from that the same, Daedra or mortal. You get... desperate."
Lord Sheogorath sighed.
"...I know. Keep thinking... if I tell Myself it's different, maybe it'll be. Some spell I haven't found. Some place I can go to wash it all away. Or at least make Myself feel something else."
"How's it feel right now?"
"...Cold. It bites. I'd prefer throw Myself into the lake, if it might do anything."
"But it won't," Sheo answered, "You'd just be floating there in Your thoughts."
"Exactly."
"So let her take You back to the Palace," he said. "You know the hounds'll come after You like this."
"Well it'd be a feeling-"
"Thal! I'm serious!"
Sighing, shaking His head, Lord Sheogorath answered, "No..." He paused with a hint of a smile, "You're not Sirius. You're Sheo."
Hardly a beat passed before Sheo laughed raucously within His head, giving Him a good whack on the shoulder. "Oh, you little jokester! You think making me laugh will get You out of this, do You?!"
"...was worth a shot. Fine, okay. I'm getting out."
Stepping out of the water, bare skin against the rocks, He shuddered and unceremoniously threw Himself into the grass.
"My Lord!" Neratia rushed to her feet, "Are You alright?! Do You need anything, a- a healer? I can patch You up-!"
He simply groaned, rolling onto His back and beginning to sign.
"Haskill's going to kill Me for this."
notes :
- completely make up minklebeet for this . kossai imagine as small rodent type of creature in pearlescent blue shade , with some insectoid features .
- pronoun game here was fun . collective sheogorath and current sheogorath both have capital pronouns , but predecessors take on lowercase .
- internal communication is hard to write , especially that realistically would not use words internally .
- 1000 points psychic damage , this was painful but cathartic .
back to thaliendir / sheogorath masterpost
